


Like a Sunset

by ElvenSorceress



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Drug Use, Gen, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-08
Updated: 2006-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElvenSorceress/pseuds/ElvenSorceress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny, Collins, Maureen, Mark and Roger remember an event that changed their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Sunset

_Benny_

  
I wasn’t around when it happened.  
  
I’d never been so grateful to be helping plan the wedding.  
  
Alison had done most of it. For some reason, she insisted I stay and help that night. A fireplace, a thick blanket, and a bottle of wine later, and we didn’t have much planning done. But she didn’t seem to mind.  
  
There was a phone call somewhere between feeding each other strawberries and the naked massage. Neither of us answered. Whatever it was could wait until morning.  
  
There wasn’t anything I could do, anyway.  
  
I never really knew her; I hadn’t left Westport in months.  
  
And they didn’t need me around. They didn’t want me around.  
  
I wasn’t involved.  
  
I wasn’t around when it happened; it was better that way.

 ~*~*~

_Collins_

  
   
I sat in the middle of the bathroom floor.  There were times I really hated being the “grown up” one. Anarchy aside, I was the one who cooked and worried about the rent and made sure we didn’t freeze.  
  
And had to call the paramedics.  
  
I was the one who stayed behind and cleaned everything up.  
  
I never thought I’d have to do something like that- scour the bathtub and the tiles until they were only a faint pink, erasing every trace that she’d been there.  
  
She was our friend. How could I be washing her blood from the bathroom?  
  
It was only hours before that she’d hugged me. She wished me a long life- as long as I could have. One with a very sweet, very talented boy who loved and adored me and always knew how to make me smile.  
  
I kept hearing her words while furiously scrubbing. She had been telling me goodbye. How could I not notice? How could this happen? She had been doing so much better lately. She could have come to me. I would have helped her. I wanted to help her. Maybe if I had known her better.  
  
Maybe.  
  
Listening to the deafening silence that filled the loft, I kept scrubbing even when the red was finally gone.  
  
I sat in the middle of the bathroom floor, my tears falling on the tiles.

   
~*~*~

_Maureen_

  
   
Most people think Roger was the one who found her. The guys did walk in a few minutes later. But I was the one who opened the door.  
  
There is nothing in the world that can prepare you for finding someone you love bleeding to death.  
  
I should have done something. I wanted to, but I couldn’t move.  
  
She was bleeding. Onto the floor. Into the water. All over the bathroom. She was bleeding. Why, why, why was she bleeding?  
  
She was full of life and smiles and sexiness and sweetness and dreams. Why was she dying?  
  
She was loved. Roger loved her so much. Mark loved her. I loved her.  
  
I didn’t understand. Why was my beautiful friend bleeding?  
  
Mark walked up to me. He was worried about me. Then he saw her. He rushed to her.  
  
She was still breathing.  
  
But she wouldn’t wake up. The paramedics left with her and Roger and Mark.  
  
I couldn’t go with them. I didn’t want to go with them. All I wanted was to be far away where this wasn’t happening. I didn’t know where else to go. Why did Jo stop coming for coffee? I would have gone to her.  
  
Anyone else would ask me to sleep with them. Or they’d make me talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted to forget it. Forget I had seen my friend bleeding and dying.  
  
Why? Why was this happening? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about it?  
  
I went to work, since it was closed for the night. It was the only other place that felt like home. I curled up on one of the couches. It was cold and I was shaking, but I don’t think it was because of the cold.  
  
I didn’t cry. Me, drama queen extraordinaire and I didn’t cry. I just wanted to forget.  
  
Most people think Roger was the one who found her. I know it’s selfish, but I wish he was the one who did.

   
~*~*~

_Mark_

  
   
There are a lot of things Roger never knew about her. I had known, about the AIDS. I knew she had been trying to tell him for several months. She wanted him to get clean, so he could be almost healthy.  
  
I was surprised when the doctor told us she’d nearly overdosed on heroin, but Roger wasn't.  
  
Actually, Roger wasn’t much of anything. He sat beside me and stared. His clothes were wet and covered in blood. He’d pulled her from the tub.  
  
I couldn’t do anything but watch him cling to her and cry and try to wake her up. I don’t think I’d ever seen him cry before. Not ever like that.  
  
I could only watch as they took her and we waited and waited and waited. Then they told us they couldn’t save her.  
  
I could only watch. I couldn’t think that this was someone I knew, someone I cared about.  
  
When I looked over at Roger, he was crying. Not the wracking sobs like before, where he could barely breathe. The tears wouldn’t stop streaming from his face, like he was too worn out to invest any more in this. He couldn’t stop crying even as I reached out and held him.  
  
I wondered what she would think of seeing him like this. She had already been so torn up about what she’d done to him. It’s why she tried to fix it.  
  
She had been clean.  
  
These last few months. She had been clean, but couldn’t get him to stop.  
  
There are a lot of things Roger never knew about her. And there were a lot of things I’d never tell him.

   
~*~*~

_Roger_

  
   
She was beautiful. I always thought she was beautiful.  
  
It was more than just her wavy hair and her eyes and her breasts and her long legs and her soft skin.  
  
It was her smile and how she smelled like flowers. How she would press soft kisses all over my face. And the way she melted when I sang to her. It was how she flicked water at me when I said something to annoy her.  
  
She loved getting us all wet, letting drops slide over our skin. Our skin. It was ours. She was part of me.  
  
I was all wet now, and I was sitting somewhere. It was clean and blinding and I was still wet from her. And I was cold and covered in red.  
  
Part of me was dying.  
  
Part of me was dead.  
  
I didn’t understand why there were arms around me. I was dead. I didn’t exist anymore.  
  
She was beautiful. She made me beautiful.  
  
But now she was gone.


End file.
